


Cried an Ocean

by foxjar



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Kitagawa Yusuke, Canon Era, Dirty Talk, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Top Kurusu Akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Akira's thumb brushes across his skin, slow and calculated, and the moment his lips part, Yusuke knows that something has changed."You are a work of art," Akira says. "Do you understand? No? Then I'll show you."
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 6
Kudos: 241
Collections: Season of Kink





	Cried an Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic for Season of Kink's holiday event! 
> 
> Prompts/kinks: dirty talk, held down, worship.

The bed creaks as Akira looms over him, the glow of the moon painting his skin an eerie blue. If Yusuke's hands weren't held down above his head, he might reach out to touch him, a whisper of a caress along his cheek. Akira is handsome in every lighting and with every expression, but the one on his face now is strange. It's not because Yusuke is unfamiliar with lust; he has seen it in art, on other people's faces, and even on his own when his thoughts start to wander. No, the look on Akira's face confuses him because it is directed at Yusuke himself. He has always been the watcher, observing such affections as the world hungers for intimacy in every form, and never the recipient of such attention.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Akira asks, squeezing his wrists, pressing them into the mattress.

This is a rhetorical question, as Yusuke has come to understand. Even if he were to answer, Akira isn't expecting his true thoughts: that his physical form is nothing special, merely the ultimate instrument with which to make art. He tries to move his hands, testing Akira's grip, and when he isn't able to move his wrists a single inch, he feels his skin start to heat up. Akira doesn't seem to be playing around, but then again, maybe he is; Yusuke has no idea what he wants to hear, what will satisfy him. So he says nothing, and before long, Akira is leaning in to kiss him, lips soft against his own.

They have kissed before, and they've even been in bed together, but nothing quite like this. Nothing as close as this, nothing so laced with desire. Yusuke doesn't know what Akira wants from him, and the thought is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Akira sits up, shifting to make himself comfortable between Yusuke's legs. "Just feeling your eyes on me makes me so…"

He knows what Akira means; it's the fire that courses through him, too. But no matter how much he tries to tell himself that everything he's feeling is normal, it is difficult not to see himself as an interloper. He has touched himself countless times in the past, and many of those experiences included intricate fantasies of Akira in his head, but he never imagined that he would make it to this point. That someone would want him, and it isn't just anyone; it is Kurusu Akira, his leader, his confidant, and now his lover.

"Yusuke." Akira could say his name a million times, over and over in the same tone, and he would never tire of it. But this time is different, more grounded. "I want to fuck you."

The words hit him, but he's still just watching, waiting for how this not-him will react. Akira wants him — to be inside him — and Yusuke has thought about this exact scenario before: being below him as their bodies press together, and although the bed beneath them will be magically silent, their moans will fill the room, louder than an orchestra. He knows that Akira is using such words to arouse him, to make him drunk on both his voice as well as the idea presented, but it doesn't quite hit the mark.

The mattress creaks as Akira shifts again, using one hand to hold Yusuke's wrist in place now while the other wanders. He touches his chin, holding his gaze in place as if he could even look anywhere else but into Akira's eyes, dark and foggy. His thumb brushes across his skin, slow and calculated, and the moment his lips part, Yusuke knows that something has changed.

"You are a work of art," Akira says. "Do you understand? No? Then I'll show you."

When he finally releases Yusuke's wrists, it's his eyes that continue to hold him down, keeping him in place. Akira starts to unbutton Yusuke's shirt, agonizingly slow, button by button. When he has them all undone, he runs his fingers from his chin, down his neck, his chest, to the waistband of his pants. Then he stops because he knows what the attention is doing to Yusuke's body; he can feel the heat between them. Yusuke stiffens, a little mortified at how pliant he becomes under Akira's touch, but his lover doesn't let him dwell on that for very long. Akira pushes back his shirt, diving in to kiss his throat, lips scorching against his thrumming pulse.

He can feel Akira's hardness through his pants now, meeting his own, pressing against him. His hips move to grind against him, the sensations not nearly enough, and yet still overwhelming. It's difficult to think when his body is this hot and when Akira is this close, kissing him with every ounce of love inside him.

Once Akira moves from his neck to his chest, peppering kisses as he makes his way downward, he says, "Your skin is soft. Firm, but soft. Amazing. How does it feel?"

Yusuke can't answer, not when Akira's fingers graze his nipple, and he can't help but buck his hips again. None of this is lost on Akira; he sees every motion, every time Yusuke squeezes his eyes shut, every time he tries to bite back a moan.

"I love trailing my hands down your body," Akira continues, brushing a hand through Yusuke's hair before kissing his forehead. He hadn't realized how sweaty his skin has become, how eager. "The way you squirm into my touch. The way your body begs for more."

Being read like a book has never felt more intoxicating. It's more than just being seen, though; Akira is using his words to excite him, his voice low as he carefully chooses each phrase to express his desire.

Akira's hands are on his belt now, not bothering to unloop it and instead just undoing the buckle before pulling his pants down. Then his underwear is being slid down his legs, and despite the suddenness, he lifts his hips up to make it easier to undress him. He's never been naked like this in front of anyone, not with the intent to touch and be touched. Everything about now, this very moment, fills his head; there is a whole world outside these walls, off of this bed, but Yusuke can't comprehend it. Not right now.

The air is chilly, but Akira makes sure to warm him, kissing down his chest. He describes the softness of his skin, the dips along his chest, how he can feel each rib beneath his fingers. His body is described so vividly and with such affection that he can picture it through Akira's eyes, through the unending love that binds them. When he looks at himself through Akira's perspective, he feels beautiful, like he is something remarkable. The raw honesty of being told how Akira wants him — how badly he wants to be inside him, wants to feel him — inflames Yusuke, but it's the details that leave him breathless.

"When you arch your back," Akira continues, wrapping his fingers around Yusuke's cock, slick with pre-come, "it's like 'Eternal Springtime.' The sensuality, the tenderness. So smooth —"

"You've seen it?" Yusuke tries to sit up before Akira's free hand is on his chest, pushing him back down. Then, even more incredulously, Yusuke says, "You've touched it?"

Akira puts a finger to his lips to shush him, and although he's still smiling, Yusuke can hear the deepness of his breaths. "Just let me love you. All of you."

He tries, he really does, but then Akira is comparing his hair to the feathery brushstrokes in "Le Grand Canal," even as he strokes him. Yusuke's mind reels at the thought, and although it can't possibly be true — that he is as exceptional as the artwork being described — it excites him that Akira is having these thoughts. To be compared to such beauty is an honor, and even more so due to it all coming from Akira's mouth.

Yusuke has never before been doted on like this. Even as Akira tightens his grip, stroking him faster and faster, he is still filling Yusuke's ears with his voice, telling him how wet he feels. How warm, how much he loves every sound his body makes. Yusuke's hands tear at the sheet, twisting it in his fingers, and he realizes late, so late, that Akira is asking him questions: _How does it feel? Do you like my hand around you? Tell me what you want me to do._

From the smirk on Akira's face at every moan that erupts from Yusuke's throat, he can tell that he isn't expecting him to answer. Akira is just filling him up with his words, looking for what works for him. They are more of his rhetorical questions, showering Yusuke with his comforting voice.

When Akira finally presses a lubed finger to his entrance, Yusuke twists his hips away; it is cold, so cold. Akira mumbles an apology — he's new to this, too — but before long, Yusuke no longer feels the chill. There's just the newness of Akira's finger inside him, and it doesn't hurt, but it feels strange. He never imagined such intimacy would feel like this: so indescribable, so breathtaking. Another finger joins the first and he feels his body relax, wanting to be with Akira. Wanting to make him feel pleasure, and to feel pleasure in turn.

"I'm sorry," Akira says, fingers still inside him, slow and exploratory. "I think I ran out of art references."

Yusuke doesn't mind, especially not when Akira's fingers brush against something inside him that makes his whole body shake.

"That is quite all right. You have wooed me enough."

"I'm not sure I could keep with it, anyway. Not when you look at me like that," Akira continues, one hand on his hip now, holding him down as he traces along the shape of him. "Yusuke, you really have no idea, do you?"

And maybe Yusuke really doesn't understand how much Akira yearns for him, but he is starting to learn. It is a night full of firsts, more than he ever dreamt of.

Once Akira has shed his clothes, it is only a moment before their bodies are aligned once again. Yusuke can feel Akira's cock slip against him, wet with lube; he can see Akira shudder, can feel him tremble between his legs. And then Akira is sinking into him, gasping, and Yusuke loves the way his lips form every moan. Even now, Akira is still telling him how he feels — so hot, so tight — but it's more hurried now as he struggles to string the sentences together.

His hips ache, making room for Akira, but he loves the sight and feel of him between his legs; Akira, coming undone, moaning as he stares down at him. Yusuke isn't sure if he is supposed to move or lie still, letting Akira lead his body to any position he desires, but he tries. Their movements never quite sync, sending a rush of irritation through him every time Akira brushes against the spot inside him ever so slightly but not enough. Never enough.

_This is true passion._

The thought runs through his head as Akira leans over to kiss him, lips wet with sweat. Yusuke runs his hand through his damp hair, drinking him in, just as Akira has been doing for him — worshipping him, adoring him. He feels Akira's nipples against his chest, against his own; every sensation is so intense, so loud. He hears the slap of their bodies meeting, the breathy moans Akira kisses into his lips, the garbled words he tries to give.

"Yusuke." His voice is so desperate and loving, struggling to find the words. "You feel so good, like —"

Then Yusuke moans, low and deep, as he finally feels that jolt of electricity. Not just a tease this time; it wells up at his core, spreading throughout his body. He pushes his hips back harder now, faster, but his movements as so erratic, fighting to feel that pleasure again. When Yusuke looks up at Akira, his eyes are squeezed shut, and he knows he's feeling it, too — that indescribable bliss.

Akira runs his hands along Yusuke's thighs as he fucks him, slow and deep. He squeezes the skin gently before propping one of Yusuke's legs over his shoulder, bending him to his will. The way their bodies bend amazes him, the way they fit, the way it all works. One of his hands slips down to touch where they are connected, feeling the rush of Akira thrusting into him before his arm is pinned against the bed yet again. He can't protest, not with Akira's mouth on his, not with Akira fucking him. Lips kiss down his neck, leaving a trail of wetness, cool in the night air. Akira is leading him to heights he never knew existed, and he loves every minute of it; he would follow him anywhere, anytime, if only he keeps showering him with these feelings, this fire.

His eyes are watering at the intensity, and Akira kisses the tears away before they can fall. Yusuke doesn't want it all to end, and yet he still wants more, more, but Akira is still holding him down. He tries to speak, but his words escape as a moan; he wants to beg, to be touched, to feel a tightness around his own cock. He watches the way the muscles in Akira's arms move, rippling as their bodies meet, toned like a marble statue. Akira follows his eyes up to the hand still holding Yusuke's leg over his shoulder, and he kisses his ankle, lips sloppy and wet.

And then Akira smirks at him — the audacity, the familiarity.

"Tell me what you want." His voice is firm, but it's less of a demand and more of a suggestion, leaving Yusuke to make the final decision. "Tell me what you want, and I will give it to you."

This time, the inquiry isn't rhetorical. Akira wants to know what would please him — if Yusuke can manage the words. But he can't, not now, and he instead wriggles his arm being held down, and Akira takes that as his cue to move his hand away, releasing him. Yusuke's hand trails down his stomach to his cock, and he feels at the wetness there, pressing the tips of his fingers into his pre-come, before wrapping his hand around himself. He moans at the tightness, at the friction, but then Akira is brushing his hand away to stroke his cock himself. It is different than his own fingers, more rough and hurried, and it's that contrast that makes it so pleasurable. The fact that it's Akira's hand on him, and the fact that he loves him. That he finds him so beautiful.

Every time Akira finds that spot deep inside him, he comes closer and closer to the edge. He can tell that Akira is nearing the end, too, as he fucks him harder and tightens his grip around him. Yusuke almost begs him to stop touching him, because he is close, so close, and he doesn't want it to end. If Akira keeps at it like this, keeps stroking him and making his limbs ache as his toes curl into the sheets, it will be over far too soon.

The only thing Yusuke manages to utter is his name: "Akira."

Maybe next time he can be made to beg, if he isn't as overstimulated as he is now. But this time he comes as Akira thrusts into him, as his hands tug at his sweaty hair, curls slipping through his fingers. Akira kisses him, bringing his moans into his mouth, while his body dissolves into pleasure. Every inch of him grows taut, every nerve on fire. And then Akira is filling him with his own come, squeezing at his hips, gasping into his lips. He wraps his free leg around Akira's waist, keeping him close as he shudders through his release.

It doesn't take long for the sweat between them to start to cool, but still Yusuke doesn't wish to move, not yet. Akira is still inside him, still panting, fingers running circles along his hips. Yusuke tries to memorize the way Akira's face looks, alive with the moon's light, lips parted, bangs stuck to his forehead. Every part of him, beautiful — and in his heart is a love that never seems to give up. An endless fire.

When Akira does finally pull out of him, the aches start to set in: his leg from being stretched upwards for so long, his hips after accommodating Akira between them. But each ache is pleasant, in building up his memories of tonight. Of their first time. The idea still strikes him as strange, that he is the one Akira wants, but he accepts his love as he has never accepted anyone's.

"You look amazing and you feel amazing," Akira says after he's rolled onto his side, bringing Yusuke into his arms. "And I love you so much."

Yusuke closes his eyes, sated by his lover's touch as well as his words. He wasn't sure if he would be able to come to this point, to feel secure and loved with such passion. And maybe a remnant of that insecurity will always persist, nagging at the back of his mind when he least expects it, but he believes Akira. He believes in his love.

"And this," Yusuke begins, heartbeat finally starting to slow but still racing, galloping in his chest. "What we did tonight. We will do it again, correct?"

Akira laughs, the sound so beautiful in the still night, Yusuke doesn't think he could ever tire of it. "Of course. Any time you want."

"And you will ease me into it? As you did tonight?"

The fingers that touch his lips are cold, tracing the shape of his mouth. He takes Akira's hand in his own to warm him, sharing his breath, his fire.

"I meant it when I said you only have to ask," Akira says, twining their fingers together. "Anything — just name it.

"It has been a long night," Yusuke muses, watching the way Akira's eyes dart across his face, trying to read him. He hopes he likes whatever it is that he sees. "But I suppose a kiss might not be too much to ask for, then?"

Another laugh, warm on his face, reminding him how real this all is. "That's all? A kiss, then."

That single promised kiss turns into two when Akira starts to pull away, baiting him, and Yusuke can feel him smile against him. When the sunrise starts to peek through the windows, Akira is back at comparing him to art: the soft glow of his body, how the lingering shadows tease and lure his hands to wander yet again. They're back at square one, as Yusuke feels that heat well up in him again, and when Akira pins his wrists to the bed, he knows he feels it, too.

Together, they are art.

**Author's Note:**

> I really love the song [Mother Tongue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-aC_TSkGvPw) by Bring Me The Horizon, so I decided to write stories inspired by it for my favorite pairings. For Yusuke, I decided to have his "mother tongue" be art.


End file.
